


Heroes Don't Need Sick Days

by starkintern



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Established relationship between Rhodey and Tony, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Just a warning for yall, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rhodes doesn't come in until second chapter, Sensory Overload, Sickfic, Some angst, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not a lot, pure fluff, thats all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkintern/pseuds/starkintern
Summary: Peter Parker learns two new things in the beginning of January, and it's that teenagers with the powers of a spider can, indeed, get sick, and that Tony Stark should never be allowed in the kitchen ever again.





	1. Staying Healthy (Not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sick and i wrote this cause im feeling like a dried up apricot and i wanted to write something  
> i hope yall enjoy it, this is 100% platonic (cant even believe i have to say this), and i had a lot of fun writing it!

Peter’s new best friends are a box of tissues and a small bag of cherry-flavored cough drops. He woke up this morning feeling like he got hit by a truck; a runny nose, watery eyes, a headache that felt like there’s a brick strapped to his forehead, and a sore throat were all the causes of this. He barely stumbled out of bed, his senses slightly dulled, and by the time he managed to throw some clothes on, he was almost late to school and Aunt May hurried him outside, shoving an apple into his hands and kissing his forehead. Peter suspected that he didn’t _look_ sick considering the fact that she didn’t ask him if he felt alright so he went to school regardless, the Spider-Man suit stuffed into his backpack as well so he can get started on his afternoon patrol immediately despite his condition. 

If there is anything that is certainly true, it’s that getting through the school day was much more difficult than Peter originally thought it would be. By his lunch period, Peter’s headache was pounding and he could barely stand even being in the cafeteria due to all of the noises, scents, and bright lights, which is why he retreated to the bathroom and ate his apple in there. He had the money the buy something else to eat, but Peter didn’t have much of an appetite afterwards. 

The rest of the day until last period was just Peter popping cough drops like candy and trying his best to power through his headache, praying that time could go by quicker. 

Currently Peter is sitting in his last class, which is an incredibly boring English class that he only ever pays attention in because he’s not very good at it. This time, however, it’s different. He eyes the clock on the wall, watching as the second-hand ticks almost in slow-motion. The drawling voice of his teacher is almost enough to put him to sleep, but Ned comes through and pokes him with his pencil once he catches Peter’s eyelids slowly closing. Peter rubs his forehead against the sleeve of his shirt, trying to put pressure on it to help relieve him of some of the pain. It doesn’t work. 

Nausea is what hits him first after a few more minutes of boring lecture. Then all of his senses go back to being dialed to eleven without warning and he can feel _everything._ His thoughts are too loud. The entire classroom is too loud. _Everything is too loud._ He needs to _get out of here._ Peter’s muscles move by instinct and he clumsily stumbles up from his chair, almost knocking his notebooks off the table in the process. He hears his teacher ask him what he needs but he’s out the door before his brain can register the words spoken to him. The last thing he hears is Ned worriedly calling his name. 

By the time Peter stumbles into the thankfully empty bathroom, he rushes over to a stall and starts dry-heaving. Nothing comes out and he doubts that anything will, but he does this for about five minutes anyway, his heart pounding against his chest, tears from congestion due to sickness and possibly from feeling so distressed spilling down his cheeks. Finally, after about a few minutes that felt like hours, Peter’s throat has decided it had enough and he leans back, drawing in small, erratic breaths. 

“I called Mr. Stark from your phone and also grabbed your backpack,” Peter hears Ned say, his echoing voice shattering the silence that once hung around them, and if he weren’t so exhausted, he would thank him. “He’s on his way here. Maybe we should get to the nurse’s office to wait for him there? Also, is this a spider thing? Do all superheroes go through this?” 

“Stay with me.” Peter simply requests. “Quiet, please.” 

Ned seems to understand and Peter focuses on keeping all of his stomach contents inside, as well as stopping his head from spinning so much. He is no longer dry-heaving and instead stays slumped against the wall of the stall, his breathing hitching every now and then. He loses track of time and at that point, he isn’t sure if Ned is still with him. Knowing his best friend, though, he probably is. Ned would never abandon him, especially in a time like this. 

The silence works wonders. Peter already feels himself beginning to find his senses again, even if he isn’t one hundred percent alright yet. He feels Ned awkwardly shifting from foot to foot by the bathroom door, probably waiting for Tony to show up so he can explain everything first. _What a good friend,_ Peter thinks in satisfaction and adoration before he returns to attempting to regain control of himself. 

“I thought you stopped getting sick once you got your freaky spider powers,” A familiar voice behind him quietly remarks after a while, and Peter feels his shoulders sag in relief. He cranes his neck and sees Tony Stark hovering over his shoulder, one strap of Peter’s backpack slung over his shoulder. He is wearing a suit, the sleeves ruffled and creased as if he were in a hurry, which means that he’s been at a meeting. Peter can almost see the concern in his dark eyes, his lips etched into a frown. “You alright, kid? You look like a hot mess.” 

“C-Can we just…go? Like, leave? Please? It’s kinda loud.” Peter manages to say, drawing in a shaky breath as he attempts to stand, his hand clutching the wall of the stall. His head is still pounding and protests against the sudden action, and he would have tripped and fallen into the toilet if Tony hadn’t caught his arm, pulling him backwards. Peter’s cheek is now squished against Tony’s chest and he takes another deep breath, trying to ground himself. “Hi,” he says to Tony, whose chest rattles with quiet laughter. 

“Hey,” he replies, his hand ruffling Peter’s hair, who closes his eyes in contentment and lets out a small sigh. The two of them remain like that for a few minutes and Peter focuses on the sound of Tony’s heartbeat, his breathing pattern, and the low hum of the Arc Reactor. Eventually, his body starts to feel heavy and apparently Tony notices that, too, since he mentions, “As much as I appreciate you falling asleep on me, we’re both going down if you do and I don’t trust what’s possibly on this school bathroom floor. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I already signed you out and told your aunt.” 

Peter nods in understanding, parting from the awkward hug they had and following Tony out the door, making sure to say thank you to Ned before he left, and eventually outside of the school building. He shivers against the brisk January air, his hands traveling up his arms to rub some warmth into them, though he feels much better now that he is outside and not boxed in. 

Tony casts him a withering look, “Don’t tell me you showed up to school without a jacket or anything, even when you know _damn well_ that spiders can’t thermoregulate. Please, my heart is weak as it is.” 

“Okay, then I won’t tell you.” 

Peter hears Tony loudly groan and watches as the man slips the black jacket off of his suit, tossing it to Peter, the fabric landing straight on top of his head. Peter pulls it off his face and begins putting it on, grinning as Tony mutters something about stupid teenagers. Once they get to the parking lot and enter Tony’s expensive car, Peter begins to feel dumb and like a burden. 

“Uh, I’m really sorry that I interrupted you in your meeting,” Peter apologizes, his fingers toying with the hem of Tony’s jacket. “I just didn’t know who else to call since May has a busy day at work and you’re the only one who knows I can…get like this. Other than Ned.” 

“Don’t sweat it, kid, it was a boring meeting anyway. I was just about to send you some cat memes before your friend called,” Tony reassures as he turns up the heat in the car, making a face at the sound of Peter sniffling. “Wait, are you sick? I thought it was just sensory overload.” 

“It was sensory overload. I just have the most wicked headache right now,” Peter complains, leaning his head back against the cushioned seat of the car. His headache is somewhat better now, instead leaving him with a dull ache rather than the sharp, excruciating pain he was experiencing before. Tony seems to understand and does not ask him further questions as he drives out of the parking lot and out into the street. 

The trip to the tower is short and Peter doesn’t fall asleep during it, but he does take advantage of the time to try to recover from his earlier overload. Tony drives smoothly despite New York traffic and even has his music turned all the way down, which Peter greatly appreciates. He is in no mood for AC/DC music that is loud enough to destroy his eardrums. 

“What’s his temperature, Fri?” Peter hears Tony ask as they walk inside, and Peter takes a seat on the couch while Tony puts his backpack on the floor beside him. 

“100.6 degrees Fahrenheit, which is classified as a low-grade fever. He seems to simply have a cold according to my scans. His vitals are all okay for now.” 

“Thanks, Fri,” Tony then turns to Peter, who is already helping himself to a few tissues from the tissue box that sits on the coffee table. “Hear that, kiddo? You have a fever. If I see you get up from that couch and avoid resting, I’m gluing you there.” 

Peter rolls his eyes at Tony’s threat as he blows his nose, “Look who’s talking. Aren’t you the one who always avoids resting?” 

“One more crack like that out of you and I’m putting a bucket of salt into your soup.” 

_Mr. Stark knows how to cook? That’s a new one,_ he thinks as he tosses the tissues into the trash can, which is thankfully nearby. “You can make soup? No offense but I didn’t think you knew how to cook.” 

Tony grins maniacally and Peter can tell that he made a mistake when he asked. “Yes, I actually have a very special Stark recipe. It’s my original recipe. Oh, you’ll love it, you can even ask Rhodey. I made this for him hundreds of times when he was sick and it works like a charm. It’ll definitely help you feel better.” 

Something tells Peter that Rhodey would advise him to run for the hills and avoid the soup at all costs but at this point, Peter is too tired from the day’s events to stop Tony from his desire to cook. “I’m just gonna…close my eyes for a bit.” Peter announces to no one in particular as he curls up on the couch, bringing his knees to his chest, “G’night…” 

Sleep takes him easily and the last thing he is aware of is someone tucking a warm blanket around him.

* * *

Something or someone is poking him in the cheek. Incessantly. 

“Five more minuuuuuuuutes,” Peter groans, turning on his other side as if that would stop the poking. It turns out that it didn’t and Peter grabs the edge of the blanket, pulling it over his head. Since when did he have a blanket this warm and fluffy? “Stooooooooooop. It’s not a school day, Aunt May, I wanna sleep iiiiiiin.” 

“Sorry it break it to you, kid, but it’s definitely not your aunt and it definitely is a school day,” A voice responds and Peter immediately recognizes it as Tony’s. Peter cracks his eyes open and turns to lie down on his back, his forearm thrown over his forehead. He feels another poke on his cheek and realizes that Tony has been poking him in the face with a spoon all this time.

Peter feels sleep gradually begin to tug him back and he murmurs lazily, “I’m going back to sleep, Mr. Stark.” 

“Oh no, you don’t. I have something for you.” 

“Too tired. Don’t make me sneeze on you.” 

“You wouldn’t _dare._ ” 

This continues on for a while before Peter relents and sits up, yawning as he rubs his eyes with a hand. How long was he even asleep? Before Peter can ask, an incredibly warm bowl is place on his lap and he feels like he just got his answer. He was asleep long enough for Tony to fulfill his promise to make the soup. 

“It took me a whole two hours. I almost thought I forgot the recipe since it’s been so long since I made it,” Tony explains as he sits down on the couch next to Peter, “but thankfully Rhodey still knows it so I called him and he filled in the blanks. He asked me to give you his condolences, but I think that he’s just messing around. He loves it, too.” 

_Oh dear God,_ Peter thinks, completely horrified at the sight of the “soup” in the bowl. The color is a very strange, almost greenish-white color and there is an overabundance of noodles, some of them even poking out of the broth. There are a few soggy carrots floating around in there, as well as small pieces of potatoes. Peter isn’t able to identify anything else that happens to be inside the soup, and he isn’t sure if that is a good or bad thing. 

Tony is practically bouncing in his seat and Peter can tell that he’s excited for Peter to take the first bite. Peter is almost tempted to claim that he’s too nauseous to eat it and call it a day, but one look at the ecstatic expression on Tony’s face is enough to chase that thought away. Peter doesn’t have the heart to deny Tony, especially when he worked so hard on making this for him. Plus, he’s also had to deal with a lot of Aunt May’s cooking and believe him, her cooking skills are almost as terrible as Tony’s, so eating this all should be no big deal. 

_Well, here goes nothing. I hope Aunt May knows that I love her, just in case anything happens to me,_ Peter thinks before he fills up the spoon with some broth and a few carrots here and there, taking a reluctant sniff before shutting his eyes and shoveling it into his mouth. 

To his surprise, it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks, but the texture is _awful._ Peter’s first instinct is to gag and spit it out, but he suppresses the urge and somehow manages to swallow it. When Peter looks back up, he realizes Tony is looking at him expectantly and he weakly lifts up his hand to give him a thumbs-up sign as he lies right through his teeth, “It’s really good, Mr. Stark. The best soup I’ve had in years.” 

Thankfully, Tony accepts that response and puffs out his chest proudly. “I knew it! I knew that you’d love it! Rhodey always says that it’s better if I just keep the soup between us but I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I tell him that you loved it. See? I’m definitely a genius in all areas.” 

_Was it really worth it?_ Peter wonders as Tony continues happily rambling about his cooking skills, even asking Friday to save this moment in her files so he can look back at it. He smiles as he answers his own question, _Yeah, it totally was._

* * *

Peter can barely focus on the movie playing on the T.V. It’s not because he’s not interested in the movie – he actually very much is – it’s just that his symptoms came back with full force. Since Peter has mutated genetics due to the spider bite, regular medicines have zero to no effect on him and he’s had to deal with them without the help of anything other than natural healing things. To put it simply, it _sucks._

Tony and Peter had been sitting on the couch – Tony’s arm slung around Peter’s shoulders and Peter’s head resting on his shoulder - for who knows how long, marathoning whatever movies that Peter was in the mood for, which so far included Interstellar and almost all of the Jurassic Park movies. 

As the movie continues playing, Peter reaches for another tissue only to come back up empty-handed as the box is surprisingly empty. Tony notices and rolls his eyes, “How could you have gone through an entire box of them in less than one day? Geez, I would have bought more of them if I knew.” 

He starts to stand up and Peter has to resist the urge to pathetically whine at the loss of contact. He uselessly slumps down against the couch, in Tony’s spot, murmuring something about it not being his fault that Stark Industries has a shortage of tissues. The lights emanating from the television soon begin to bring Peter’s headache back to full force so he rightfully turns away, nuzzling his head against the cushion in hopes of relieving it. Naturally, that action does absolutely nothing. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter calls as he shifts in position, nearly kicking the blanket off of him. When he gets no response, he whines again, this time much louder, “Mr. Staaaaaaaaaark. I think I’m dying. This may be the end of the line for me. Tell Aunt May that I love her. All of my Spider-Man gear goes to Ned. You can get all of my limited edition Iron Man stuff. It’s like having your own merch but not paying for it. Also, if my English teacher asks about my essay, tell her that it was so good that you buried it with me.” 

“Oh, quit it, you drama king,” Peter hears the sarcastic voice of his mentor as he approaches with another box of tissues, setting it down on the coffee table beside him. “And I thought I was a hassle to deal with when sick.” 

Peter frowns as he sits up, reaches over, and takes a tissue, a stone of guilt forming in his stomach. Maybe he should have told Tony back at the school that he’d be fine and he can deal with this by himself. It seems as if Tony has a lot to do today, anyway, and Peter didn’t intend on adding his own problems to that list. However, it seems as if Tony read his mind because he felt a gentle hand ruffle his hair, the owner of said hand murmuring something about just messing around, and that is enough to cause Peter’s lips to curl back into a smile. 

“You wanna finish up the movie, bud?” Tony offers, and Peter vigorously shakes his head only to stop as his head starts spinning. 

“No, head hurts,” Peter answers honestly and even though Tony says nothing, he can feel the worry practically washing over the man in waves. 

“Hey, how long have you been sleeping lately? Estimated hours per night for this week.” Tony’s sudden question causes Peter to look up at him in confusion only to realize exactly in which direction this conversation is going to be heading in. Peter may be staying in Tony’s place for now, but he is not going to be lectured by Tony Stark again, even if his sleeping habits have something to do with the severity of his headaches and sensory issues. 

“Six,” Peter lies, though a stare of blatant disbelief from Tony causes him to quietly amend, “Okay, maybe more like three. Or less. Listen, Mr. Stark, I just have a lot going on! I have a lot of projects and assignments for school, and I have to keep my grades up otherwise they’ll kick me out of there! Do you think I _want_ to spend all night listening to some required video of a college dude talking about solving integrals?” 

Tony is oddly silent for a few moments and Peter begins to think that he’s in the clear, although what the man asks next causes him to tense, “Are you sure it’s just that? There’s nothing else that’s the cause of your piss poor sleeping schedule?” 

_Nightmares,_ Peter instantly mentally answers. Ever since The Vulture incident – involving the plane crash and the building collapsing on top of him – Peter has found himself dealing with an abundance of nightmares that leave him waking up in a cold sweat or with a scream trapped in his throat. He’s been terrified of going to sleep and often left projects and essays undone until the last minute just so he can have an excuse to stay up all night doing them rather than sleeping. He just _cannot_ go through another nightmare where he sees the Vulture’s metal wings covered in his blood, or where he’s choking on dust and his own tears as pieces of a broken building are piled on top of him, pressing him against the ground. 

Peter feels his own breathing beginning to quicken so he chases those thoughts away, his hand gripping the couch in order to pull himself back into reality. Instead of claiming that nothing else bothers him like he usually would, Peter chooses to remain silent. For a while, neither of them say anything. However, he suddenly feels the couch shift as Tony plops down on it and sits beside him, and the two of them share a glance. 

Eventually, Tony – a bit awkwardly - opens his arms and gestures for Peter to close the space between them, and Peter wastes no time in doing so. He immediately sinks into the embrace, warmth seeping through his aching bones. 

“One time, a while ago, I had Palladium poisoning,” Tony suddenly speaks, and Peter looks up at him before looking back down at the faint blue light on the man’s chest, the Arc Reactor covered by the cotton of Tony’s white shirt. “The Reactor was saving my life but at the same time, it was killing me. I tried every single thing to make it stop but nothing worked. There was a good chance that I was going to die.” 

Tony’s voice was breaking and Peter rubs his hand against his back, his eyes focused on the Arc Reactor. Peter had always admired it, considered it a symbol of strength, courage, and intelligence. However, when he saw the scarring around Tony’s chest, overheard Tony speaking in a hushed voice to Rhodey about how much it hurt sometimes and noticed how tense Tony got whenever someone he didn’t trust touched it, he realized that it also served as a constant reminder of what Tony went through in Afghanistan. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. Not Happy, Pepper, or Rhodey. I didn’t want anyone to know. I tried getting through it myself,” Tony quietly admit, “and I didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I mean, I did in the end, but you get the point, kid. Some things you don’t have to go through alone. Some things you _shouldn’t_ go through alone.” 

Peter simply nods his head in understanding, resting his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. If there’s anyone who understands nightmares more than anyone, it’s Tony Stark, and Peter knows this. 

“How come you went to sleep here? I don’t mean to pry, I’m just curious.” 

Peter blinks at the question and realizes that he didn’t even think of nightmares when he took his nap on the couch. It barely even crossed his mind. “I, uh…” Peter began, hesitating before softly admitting, “I guess I just feel safer with you. Yeah. I feel safer with you. I didn’t think that I would have any if you were here.” 

The two of them share another brief moment of silence together and Peter begins to feel as if he messed up big time by admitting something so personal and emotional to a man who didn’t do well with either things. 

“I’m here,” Tony promises, and gently squeezes Peter’s body closer to his. It’s a simple promise of safety and comfort, but it means so much to Peter. 

Peter lets out a small laugh in response, full of mirth and gratefulness, before he closes his eyes once again, faintly beginning to feel sleep start to drape over him like a blanket. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has two chapters just cause i have another idea for the second chapter that involves rhodey and stuff! - i hope you enjoyed reading it !!!!  
> comments and kudos keep me going and are always appreciated !!!  
> my tumblr, where you can talk to me & yell at me about marvel stuff!: [starkintrn.tumblr.com](https://starkintrn.tumblr.com/)


	2. Stick Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully feeling better, Peter spends the rest of his time with two very successful yet also very embarrassing engineers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally nothing but fluff. you think this has angst? nope! all fluff. too much fluff. please don't send me your dentist bills for the cavities this may cause, i'm broke as hell.   
> anyways, yeah, i've worked on this chapter for a while and im pretty happy with it so (throws it at you guys) take it from me 
> 
> this is ABSOLUTELY NOT starker by the way, and yes, tony & rhodey are romantically involved. 
> 
> enjoy!

When Peter wakes up, the first thing he notices is that everything around him is upside down, and it takes him only a few mere seconds to guess that he’s on the ceiling. It’s safe to say that Peter is used to it at this point, since this isn’t the first time and he prefers doing many things on the ceiling despite his aunt’s protests, including homework and reading. In fact, he is almost tempted to go back to sleep until his ears naturally pick up a noise, and he remains alert. 

“Tony nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw you hanging upside down in your sleep,” A voice comments, and Peter tilts his head down to see Rhodey leaning up against the couch, his arms folded across his chest, an amused smile on his face. “I had to convince him for almost ten whole minutes that you’ll be fine. You’d think that he’d be used to your weird little spider habits by now.” 

“Mr. Colonel Rhodes!” Peter gasps in glee and unsticks his arms from the ceiling before carefully making his way down, landing on the floor with a soft _thud._ The action causes his bones to ache but thankfully not as much as they did yesterday evening. 

“What’s up, buddy? I heard you weren’t feeling well.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know that I could still get sick with my powers, but somehow it happened,” Peter explains as he follows Rhodey into the kitchen, where there is already some coffee brewing in a pot and two mugs are set on the counter. From the faint sunlight streaming through the windows, painting their surroundings with a pale blue glow, Peter can tell that it’s still early in the morning. “I think it must’ve been pretty bad if it got past my healing factor and stuff, but I feel a lot better now. Anyways, is Mr. Stark still sleeping?” Peter then asks as he rubs an eye with one hand, his mouth opening in a yawn. He finds an empty chair by the counter and sits down on it, propping his elbows up on the surface of the counter. 

“He actually just fell asleep thirty minutes ago,” Rhodey says as he opens the refrigerator, and Peter’s mouth drops open. “He insisted on staying up to check on you every now and then. He even set timers to wake you up every now and then to drink water, so you can stay hydrated.” 

“I didn’t mean for him to stay up all night!” Peter loudly exclaims, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he attempts to squash the guilt that’s rapidly forming in his stomach. “If I knew that he was going to do that, I wouldn’t have agreed to staying here! I just thought I was staying here because Aunt May had a long shift.” _I know that Mr. Stark is over-the-top sometimes, but I didn’t expect him to sacrifice his sleep for me! Oh, man..._

Rhodey passes him a glass of orange juice that he poured as Peter was in the middle of freaking out, “Hey, don’t worry about him. He’s fine with it. He’s stayed up longer in the past, even if that isn’t so much of a good thing.” 

That does ease the guilt a bit, but it quickly returns. “Does Mr. Stark get sick easily?” Peter finds himself asking, worry and guilt beginning to form in his stomach once again. The last thing he wants to do is get Tony sick due to their constant physical contact yesterday, and Peter knows that since Tony has his Arc Reactor constantly pressing down on his chest and lungs, it won’t be a painless process for the genius. 

“No, don’t sweat it, I force him to take vitamins daily,” Rhodey shakes his head, gesturing towards the cabinets, “He refuses to eat anything but the Gummy Avengers ones though.” Even though the statement is humorous in nature, the man has somewhat of a strained tone of voice as he speaks, and it doesn’t take Peter long to figure out that he probably had to deal with a sick Tony at one point and that it didn’t go so well. 

_Yeah, I can believe that,_ Peter thinks, subconsciously rubbing the center of his chest with his knuckles, trying to imagine how having a large hunk of metal imbedded in his chest would feel like. Coughing and hiccups are most likely _agonizingly_ painful, and Peter cringes at the thought. Thankfully, the subject is changed before Peter has a chance to dwell on it any further. 

“Well, I mean, if he does get sick, we can always make him his signature soup for a taste of his own medicine,” Rhodey comments as he pours some coffee into the two mugs once it’s done, and Peter shudders at the memory of forcing himself to eat all of the soup. Tony was so happy that he did, and Peter is glad, but the soup is bad enough to end up in the trash in an episode of Hell’s Kitchen. 

“Oh no, not _the soup_ ,” he murmurs, more to himself rather than anyone else. 

“ _The soup_ indeed. Wait, don’t tell me he actually fed it to you,” Rhodey hides his grin behind his coffee mug, and when Peter sullenly nods his head, his grin seems to grow wider, “Oh my God. And you’re still alive and kicking? I applaud you, you must have a stomach of steel.” 

Peter mirrors his grin, “My aunt has pretty terrible cooking skills, so I’m used to stuff like that. Although I gotta say, I don’t think anything she made could top the weird texture of the soup. It had a _lot_ more mystery ingredients than any of her dishes. Can you imagine if they ever decided to collaborate on a dish?” 

Rhodey visibly shudders, “That dish would be deemed a biohazard in less than two seconds.” 

The two of them share a laugh and continue casually conversing until Peter feels a hand on his shoulder and almost jumps, thankfully registering who the hand belongs to before he finds himself stuck on the ceiling again. 

“Morning, kiddo,” Tony sleepily says, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of Peter’s head. Surprise is what first washes over Peter, merely because actions of affection besides hugs are rare when it comes to Tony, although that surprise is soon replaced by adoration, and Peter can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” Rhodey whines, and Tony casts him a look as Rhodey hands him a different cup of coffee, small tendrils of steam still rising from the inside. 

“I heard you making fun of my soup. You don’t get any,” the genius huffs, like a petulant child, and quickly adds just as stubbornly, “I don’t like being handed things, either. I thought we all knew that by now.” However, despite this, Peter sees him wait for a few moments before gently taking the cup from Rhodey’s hands and hears him murmur a very heartfelt “thank you.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay, drama king.” He makes eye contact with Peter and winks, and Peter is relieved that he isn’t going to rat him out for bashing on Tony’s soup, too. The last thing he needs is to be on Tony’s bad side. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, by the way? Don’t think I didn’t see your ass climbing into bed at seven thirty in the morning.” 

Tony waves his hand dismissively, “Doesn’t matter. I was worried about the kid. The last thing I need him is keeling over on my watch. His aunt will kill me in the most merciless way possible.” 

Peter feels his face flush and he reaches over and grabs a tissue to sneeze into as he mumbles shyly, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Stark. I’m fine.” 

“Oh, I’m very familiar with those words,” Tony bitterly says as he takes a sip of his coffee, “You tell me you’re fine then you’re sporting at least fifty bruises on your face and a knife in your side, and your leg is also broken in multiple places, and Friday tells me that you’re only a few minutes away from losing consciousness.” 

“Hmmm, I wonder who that reminds me of.” Rhodey hums, and Tony shoots him an unamused look. 

Peter shrugs his shoulders, focusing on the orange juice in his glass, “I just think that, y’know, you didn’t _have_ to do that. I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it at all! I do appreciate it a lot and it really means a lot to me that you sacrificed your sleep for me, but I don’t wanna burden you or anything. I mean, I do feel a lot better and it is thanks to your help, but –“ 

“I don’t mind it, sunshine. Just don’t have any near-death moments for the rest of this week and we’ll call it even.” 

“Mr. Stark? Is that genuine care I hear in your voice? Do you actually…care about me?” Peter teases and dramatically puts a hand over his heart as if he’s in shock, suppressing a laugh as Tony narrows his eyes at him. 

“Don’t go making me voice my emotions now, Pete,” Tony deflects, but there is something hidden behind his voice that Peter detects and is satisfied by, so he lets the subject drop. 

As their makeshift breakfast slowly drawls on, Peter realizes that he never thought that he’d get the chance to see the Avengers, the badass heroes he looked up to since he was a child, so… _domestic._ Tony’s hair is messy, riddled with a bedhead that he clearly hasn’t bothered to fix yet, and cloudy sleepiness is still in his eyes; not to mention his clothes, which are just gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt with a stock image of cats on it, the faint blue glow of the Arc Reactor making it seem like the cats are staring up at the moon. This is a major change from the usual suits and ties, and cold, hard armor. Rhodey is in similar attire and in fact, Peter could’ve sworn he had seen Tony wear the same exact shirt a few days ago. Their tired smiles and playful banter are so different from what the media always portrays that Peter almost feels like he’s intruding. Keyword: almost. Part of him feels like he’s right at home. 

“Hey, Underoos, were you being honest earlier? _Are_ you actually feeling better? Or do I need to whip up another batch of my soup again?” Peter’s thoughts are interrupted by Tony’s question and he blinks, playing the question all over again in his head just to make sure he didn’t zone out too much. 

Dutifully ignoring Tony’s rather embarrassing nickname for him as well as his threat to make the soup for a second time, Peter vigorously nods his head; in fact, if it weren’t for his lingering stuffy nose and sore throat, he would think that he’s not sick at all anymore. “Yeah, I’m doing loads better, Mr. Stark, I promise. Thank you for letting me stay here for the night and everything, it really helped me a lot.” 

Tony smiles and Peter notes that he seems almost proud of himself, “Of course, Pete. I already told your aunt ahead of time that you’re staying here so she’s in the know. She only wants you home sometime before six. Which is enough time for a lab day with all three of us, so let’s go. I have some tinkering to do.” 

“That sounds awesome! Wait, Mr. Rhodey’s an engineer, too?” Peter gasps as he slides off the chair and follows after Tony, who’s dragging Rhodey along by the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Well, of course. His deal is aerospace. Isn’t that right, Honey Bear?” 

“Yeah, it’s not easy being cooler than Tony, but I manage,” Rhodey sports a mischievous smile as he brags, and Peter laughs along with him as they enter the lab.

* * *

After a few hours of working in the lab, and Rhodey showing off his skills with Tony playfully poking fun at him while Peter helps both of them the best he can, Tony is the first and last one of them to fall asleep, and Peter isn’t surprised at all. Rhodey mentioned Tony not being able to sleep that well lately, and that at one point his body is forcibly going to make him get some rest whether he likes it or not. Unfortunately, Peter is getting all-too familiar with that feeling, as well. 

“Hey, Peter,” Peter hears Rhodey call, and he turns his attention away from his project to see the other man waving two black markers around, “on a scale of one to ten, how good are your art skills?” 

Peter grins devilishly as he catches, in midair, the marker that’s tossed to him. “They’re absolutely atrocious.” 

After a few minutes, Peter finds himself to be grateful that he has such a steady hand. Apparently, it is really easy to stir Tony while he’s sleeping, and there were a few moments in time when both Rhodey and Peter had to step back since Tony was incredibly close to waking up. Thankfully, they managed to draw a variety of things on Tony’s face, mostly memes and vine references on Peter’s part. 

“He’s going to kill us,” Rhodey remarks as he carefully finishes up his drawing on Tony’s cheek, “you might manage to make it out alive, though. You have those cool spider powers, all you need to do is stick on his ceiling and he wouldn’t be able to get you down. Not to mention that he has an obvious soft spot for you. You can probably draw all you want on his face and he’ll just ruffle your hair and give you a juice box.” 

Peter snickers, capping his marker before his eyes fall upon Tony’s forearm, which is extended out on the lab table. “Did you do this to him a lot in college? ‘Cause you seem like a total professional. I’m just a rookie compared to you.” Peter asks as he kneels down again, this time beginning to draw on Tony’s arm. 

“Oh, hell yes. I only did it when he was stressed, though. He always got mad at me at first but eventually, he would start laughing and I would, too, and that’s how we would temporarily forget about the stress of exams,” Rhodey reminisces, and Peter detects a certain fondness in his tone of voice, “he always got me back in the end, though, but I didn’t mind. When I first got into college, I thought that I was going to have the time of my life partying and everything – which is not cool if you don’t go about it safely, by the way, so don’t do it. Instead, I ended up making sure that Tony didn’t end up doing something stupid and getting himself killed.” 

“I hope Ned and I are like that in college!” Peter can’t help but exclaim excitedly, yet the excitement in his voice gradually fades as he continues, “We’re kinda like that right now. But we’re having trouble deciding on colleges. I’m worried that if we go to different colleges, we’ll forget about each other, y’know? And he means a lot to me so I’m just wondering if I should just agree with where he wants to go.” 

“Absolutely not,” Rhodey says firmly, and places a hand on Peter’s shoulder to get his attention, “If you have somewhere you want to go, go for it. Don’t let anyone stop you, okay? Listen, I love Tony, but if I were given the chance to achieve something I’ve wanted for years, I’d take it, and Tony would understand. That’s why we work so well as husbands. If Ned were truly your friend, he wouldn’t mind if you went to a different college. Anyways, you don’t have to be physically near each other all the time to be friends.” 

_Wow, I didn’t know Rhodey was so good at giving advice. Then again, Mr. Stark always did tell me that he’s really down to earth,_ Peter muses as he smiles and nods his head. “Yeah, you’re right! I’m sure he’ll understand if we wanna go different places! He’s a really good friend, the most amazing friend ever, actually. Thank you, Mr. Colonel Rhodes.” 

“No problem at all.” Rhodey then peeks over Peter’s shoulder, “Stick figures? Wait, is that one supposed to be Tony? And that one next to him supposed to be me? I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for making Tony a midget.” 

“Well, I’m not going to an art school, that’s for sure. Do you think Mr. Stark will have a fit if I also draw myself super tall?” Peter wonders and Rhodey snorts at that. He finishes up the drawing, gently thumbing away any mistakes, and right below the drawing he decides to write ‘proof that Tony Stark has a heart.’ 

“Aw, c’mon, that’s so sweet. You’re going to make this poor man cry,” Rhodey chuckles. 

Peter admires his work for a few minutes before he then checks the time and immediately stumbles to his feet, almost tripping in the process, “Crap! I gotta go! I have school tomorrow and Aunt May wants me to be home in time for dinner.” Peter throws the marker down on the desk and begins to make his way to the lab doors, though Rhodey’s voice stops him from getting very far. 

“Hey! How are you going to get home?” 

“I’ll swing home,” Peter says as if it’s obvious, and he throws his hands up in exasperation as Rhodey shakes his head in disapproval, “C’mon! It’s not that far if I swing fast enough! And I’m feeling a lot better so it’s not like I can get any worse.” Even though Peter continues to provide what he believes are valid reasons for swinging home, he knows that he’s already losing this argument. If there’s anything that Rhodey and Tony have in common, it’s their protective natures. 

“I’ll call Happy for you, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You can go say goodbye to Tony in the meantime,” Rhodey points out, and Peter’s hesitance to have Happy drive him home almost disappears completely. He can’t believe that he tried to run out of here without even saying goodbye! 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter tries to get Tony’s attention as he walks over, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and buries his face in the crook of his neck. “Mr. Staaaaaaaaaaark. I know you’re old but waking you up shouldn’t be one of the most difficult things I’ve done today. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark, I set something on fire and it’s spreading, and we need to get you out of here fast…okay, yeah, I figured you wouldn’t respond to that. Okay, how about this? I fell down the stairs and broke both my legs and arms. No? Oh, c’mon, Mr. Stark. Wake up. Mr. Stark.” 

Finally, Peter gets a response. “Oh my God, kid, would it really kill you to call me ‘Tony’ every now and then?” He feels Tony shift slightly but only to make their hug less awkward, and Peter smiles as he feels the man’s arms wrap tightly against him, warmth flooding back through his limbs. 

Peter instinctively lets out a content sigh and the words flow out of his mouth before he can even think about them, “Love you, Mr. Stark.” 

“Well, of course you do. Who doesn’t?” Tony snorts, before he takes on a softer, quieter tone of voice as he adds, “Love you, too, Peter.” 

The two of them eventually part and the warmth fades but Peter doesn’t mind. He can always swing by whenever he feels like it, and there’s a very small chance that Tony will ever mind it. 

“Alright, Peter, Happy’s waiting for you in the parking lot,” Rhodey says as he makes his way back over to them, clasping a hand over his mouth to hide his grin as he catches sight of the drawings on Tony’s face. Peter can see his shoulders bouncing with held back laughter, and he takes that as his cue to leave before Tony realizes. 

“Bye, Mr. Stark!” Peter waves before he stops before Rhodey, who affectionately ruffles his hair only to end up with his arms full of a teenager. Peter feels the man tense up in surprise for a few seconds before relaxing and returning the hug. Rhodey’s hugs are different from Tony’s; Tony’s hugs tend to be a bit awkward at first, but incredibly warm and tight, while Rhodey’s are confident, un-modest, yet still loving. “See ya, Mr. Colonel Rhodes!” 

Once he manages to say his goodbyes, he turns his back and heads towards the door to the lab, planning on picking up his backpack before he leaves. As he nears the exit, however, he can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind him. 

“What are you laughing at?” Peter hears Tony say, his tone of voice filled with confusion, yet the slightest hint of accusation, almost as if he knows that Rhodey has done something. 

“Nothing, nothing, Tones. Just don’t go anywhere near a mirror until you take a few showers, it’s for your own good,” Rhodey manages to say before bursting out into hysterical laughter, and Peter holds his fist to his mouth to hold back giggles. 

The last thing that Peter hears before he goes out the door is Tony’s voice, which is dangerously low, “You both did _what_?”

* * *

“Hey, Aunt May,” Peter chirps as he drops his backpack against the closed door to their apartment and wraps his arms around her in a hug, which she immediately returns. 

“How are you feeling? I’m really sorry I couldn’t pick you up from school that day, I had a very busy shift and they wouldn’t let me leave.” His aunt explains, and Peter simply tells her that he’s feeling fine and that it’s alright. “I’m glad you’re alright! By the way, I made dinner for us! You’re in luck, it didn’t turn out as _bad_ as the other dinners. I think I’m getting better at cooking. I’ve also heard that garlic is good for sickness, so there’s a ton of it in here!” 

Peter is suddenly thankful that his nose is stuffed and that he can’t smell that well, he’s pretty sure that it doesn’t smell like a bunch of roses. However, despite this, Peter simply offers her an encouraging thumbs up, “It smells great, Aunt May!” _At least the fire alarm isn’t going off like last time._

Dinner goes by quickly, but both of them spend a lot of time talking about their days and what’s been going on lately, and Peter realizes that he’s missed spending a lot of time with Aunt May. She’s been working a lot lately, which is why Peter often ordered takeout for dinner, and even though takeout always tasted better, he finds himself enjoying this more. Thankfully Aunt May mentioned she’s getting shorter hours next week, so they have a lot planned together, including a multitude of movie nights (Peter even managed to convince her to invite Tony and Rhodey for one or two of them). 

For the first time in a few days, Peter gets ready for bed after dinner, pulling back the covers of his bed and climbing in, reaching over to turn the lamp off and plunge his room in a darkness that he hasn’t experienced in a while. However, as soon as he does so, his phone vibrates on the nightstand and he lifts it up, expecting to see a few texts from Ned. However, as Peter checks his phone, he sees three separate texts from Rhodey instead: 

**Rhodey:** Just letting you know that he cried when he saw what you drew on his arm.   
**Rhodey:** Don’t tell him I told you tho.  
**Rhodey:** Also get some rest, you have school tomorrow.

Peter lets out a small laugh and texts back a goodnight message with a couple of emojis tacked on at the end, before he puts his phone back down on the nightstand and waits, already knowing who is going to text him next. A few minutes later, as expected, he gets a couple of texts from Tony: 

**Tony:** You are an awful child. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father, Peter.   
**Tony:** Also feel free to call me if you have trouble sleeping again. I’m here.   
**Tony:** Goodnight, kiddo. 

_They’re such dorks,_ Peter thinks fondly as texts back another goodnight message with the same excessive amount of emojis. He then hooks his phone up to his charger and turns on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks about what the remaining hours of the night are going to be like. He knows that the nightmares are very likely to come back, that tonight isn’t going to go as well as he wants it to, and that he isn’t fully healed from sickness yet, but at least he knows he has people who are willing to help. 

For now, that’s all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YALL. ITS NOTHING BUT FLUFF. IM A WEAK MAN WHO WRITES NOTHING BUT FLUFF.   
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed it, comments & kudos are always appreciated !   
> feel free to give me your thoughts on my tumblr, which is [here!](https://starkintrn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
